


Autumn in Beallsville

by TwilightPony21



Category: JAG
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 11:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16283765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwilightPony21/pseuds/TwilightPony21
Summary: Harm and Mac spend a few days in Beallsville, Pennsylvania during the autumn season.  A very short series of ficlets.





	1. Homecoming

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, everyone! I wrote these autumn ficlets a couple years ago and decided to share them again here. As you might be able to tell from the chapter titles, they started out as Tumblr prompts and somehow turned into a short series of ficlets. I really enjoyed writing them and would have loved to see Harm and Mac do something like this on the show. I hope you enjoy reading!

“Are you sure there’s a place to land this thing?”

As the little yellow biplane soared through the air, Mac looked out doubtfully over the dense trees below.  The autumn foliage was beautiful at this time of year, a mix of reds, oranges, yellows, and greens.  But she couldn't see anywhere clear enough to land a plane, and she had visions of her highly capable but sometimes too cocky for his own good pilot trying to pull off some sort of death defying stunt in order to land.

But then she saw it come out of nowhere.

A flat, wide open meadow that stretched for acres.

Mac let out a little gasp of awe that couldn't be heard over the roar of the engine.  _The perfect runway_ , she realized as the plane began its descent.

After the Stearman had coasted to a smooth stop, Mac hopped out and pulled off her flight goggles, taking in the smell of the crisp fall air and the sight of the colorful trees against the setting sun.

“Oh, Harm, it’s beautiful,” she breathed in wonder.

“Welcome to Beallsville, Pennsylvania,” her pilot announced, climbing out of the backseat.  “Feels like coming home every time.  Come on.”

Harm led her down a narrow wooded trail, through a shower of falling leaves, and it wasn’t long before they came upon another clearing.

Mac’s jaw dropped.

The picturesque scene before her was like something she had only ever imagined – the endless green pastures lined with bright white fence, a quaint red barn, and a beautiful old farmhouse.  There were a few puffs of smoke coming from the chimney, and Mac’s mouth began to water as she realized that something delicious was cooking over the fireplace.

Just then, the front door opened and an elderly woman emerged from the farmhouse.  She was tall with dark, graying features and intense but friendly eyes.

“You’re just in time for dinner, Harmon,” she said with a smile.

“Grandma, this is Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie,” Harm said.  “Mac, this is my grandmother.”

And as Sarah Rabb stepped off the porch and enveloped her in a warm, welcoming hug, Mac realized that this felt exactly like coming home.


	2. Cozy night in

The old Rabb farmhouse had been well-kept over the years, but on these chilly fall nights, sometimes the drafts still managed to creep in through the cracks, and the bright flames crackling in the fireplace were a welcome warmth to help drive out the chill.

Mac was settled on the overstuffed couch by the fireplace, wrapped in a fuzzy fleece blanket and reading one of the paperbacks she had found lying around the house.

She was barely a few pages into the first chapter when she heard Harm open the front door and step into the hallway to hang up his jacket.

“Is Sarah all tucked in?” she called.

“Yes.”

“Did you kiss her good night?” Mac teased.  Her eyes danced with laughter at the thought of her partner kissing his prized plane good night as he tucked her inside the barn to protect her from the heavy frost expected tonight.

“Maybe I did.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” Mac said smugly.

Harm rolled his eyes as he walked into the room and motioned to her to scoot over on the couch.

"Want some tea?"  Mac reached over to pick up the pretty floral kettle that Harm's grandmother had used to brew some fresh oolong tea that evening.

"Sure."

Harm took a sip from the mug Mac offered him, swallowing slowly to let the tea soothe his throat and warm up his insides.

Or maybe it was the Marine snuggled next to him who warmed him up inside.

And as Harm watched the fire slowly burn into darkened embers, he realized that the only Sarah he ever wanted to kiss good night had fallen sound asleep against his shoulder.


	3. Wine tasting

The road to the Beallsville winery was a long, unpaved, twisty stretch of driveway, and Harm wasn't actually sure his grandmother's old truck was going to make it.

The engine sputtered and there was a loud bang and an ear-splitting squeal as Harm pulled into the parking lot.  He was thrown forward and then back against the seat as the truck finally wheezed to a stop.

Harm sighed.  The old truck would never be a sleek, smooth ride like his beloved Corvette, but maybe he could do something about those brakes before his grandmother was seriously hurt.

He pulled the heavy box of grapes out of the back of the truck and carried it into the shop, a small bell above the door signaling his arrival.

“Hey, Sammy.”

The grey-haired man behind the counter peered at him curiously through thick black-rimmed glasses.  Suddenly, his eyes widened in recognition.  “Well, I’ll be damned.  Harmon Rabb, Junior.  What brings you all the way to Beallsville?”

“Just delivering grapes,” Harm replied.  He hoisted the box onto the counter.  “Grandma says this is the end of this year’s harvest before the frost last night.”

"You deliverin' grapes now?” Sammy asked in disbelief.  “Aren’t you still flyin' those Navy kitty cats?”

"Tomcats,” Harm corrected.  “And whenever the Navy lets me.”

Sammy chuckled.  "Well, when you're done flyin' for the Navy, you give old Sammy a call and come help him out.”  He motioned to the numerous wine bottles lined up on the counter.  "Sammy has to deliver lots of wine for a wedding this weekend,” he explained.  “Beallsville's vintage finest.”

He gave Harm a pointed look.  "You know, Sammy didn't get a call for Harmon Rabb, Junior's wedding.”

"I'm not married.”

Sammy blinked.  "You're not?”

Harm laughed nervously.  "Well, Sammy, maybe I'm still waiting for the right girl."

Sammy smiled and shook a finger at him.  "Ah, so you _are_ your father's son.  If Sammy remembers correctly, your father was quite taken with Miss Patricia.  He waited a long time for that girl to say 'I do.'  It was a beautiful wedding.  Lots of wine.”

Sammy sighed nostalgically.  "Well, Harmon Rabb, Junior, when you get married, you call Sammy.  Anything you want for your wedding, Sammy can provide.  Your wish is Sammy's command.  Or your bride’s.”

Harm rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling at the same time.  "Sammy—”

"Maybe she likes a little red wine," Sammy said, holding out one of the bottles for Harm’s inspection.  “This one everybody loves.  A little sweet, a little sour, a little fruity, very satisfying for all palates.”

"Sammy—”

"Of course we do have some wines that are a little darker.  Heavier.  More bitter.”

"Sammy—”

"Or maybe she likes something a little lighter.  We also have a selection of sweet wines.  Not as thick, tastes just like a refreshing drink you would enjoy on a spring day in the countryside.”

“Sammy!” Harm finally snapped.  “She doesn’t drink.”

Sammy suddenly grew very silent and a knowing, mischievous grin spread across his face.  “So you _do_ have a girl.”


	4. Pumpkin spice

“You taught Harm how to cook.”

It was more a statement than a question as Mac watched Harm's grandmother beat a lumpy batch of pumpkin pie batter with the skill of a seasoned chef.

"Well, I'm not so sure I taught Harm how to cook as Harm decided he was going to learn."  Sarah laughed.  "Mac, I'm sure you know by now that Harm doesn't do anything unless he has a darned good reason.  More cinnamon, dear," she instructed.

Quickly, Mac sprinkled another teaspoon of cinnamon into the bowl.  "So what was his reason for learning how to cook?" she asked.

"Well, I think he was bored out of his mind," Sarah replied.  "He couldn't walk.  He was depressed.  He was angry at the Navy and at the world.  He needed a distraction."

Sarah saw the question in Mac's eyes before she had a chance to ask.

"His ramp strike," she said simply.  "Now add the nutmeg."

Mac obediently stirred in the freshly ground nutmeg, and Sarah nodded approvingly, pleased at how the batter was starting to swirl into a smooth, uniform orange color.

“Just need the ginger and the cloves now.”

Mac added the remaining ingredients and helped Sarah pour the thick, creamy batter into the homemade pie crusts.

As they slid the pies into the oven, Mac finally voiced the question that had gotten stuck in her throat.  “He was in really bad shape back then, wasn't he?”

"Flying means everything to Harm," Sarah answered softly.  "You know that, Mac.  So when it was taken away from him, his heart was completely broken.”

Mac nodded, inhaling deeply and finding the warm pumpkin spice aroma strangely comforting as she realized just how broken her partner had been.

"So how’d he finally get over it?” she asked quietly.

“Well, he poured what was left of his heart into restoring that biplane,” Sarah said.  “He went to law school.  And then he met you.”


	5. Haunted house

"Harm?"

Mac peeked in the door of the giant red barn.  It was a beautiful old building, strong and sturdy to withstand cold Pennsylvania winters, but it hadn't actually been used in years other than as a storage hangar for Sarah.  Mac thought it smelled faintly of hay and jet fuel.

"Up here."

Mac craned her neck to see her partner sitting against one of the wooden beams in the hayloft.

"What are you doing up there?" she asked, closing the barn door behind her and making her way up the ladder.  "I thought you were fixing the brakes on your grandmother's truck."

"I had to get some tools," Harm said.  "Just felt like coming up here."  He shrugged.  "I can't explain it."

Mac dropped to the floor of the loft and stretched out beside him.  "You come up here often?"

"Used to."

"How?" Mac asked.  "I thought you couldn't walk after your crash."

Harm raised an eyebrow.  "You been talking to my grandmother?"

"Yes," Mac admitted.

Harm leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, but not before Mac caught a glimpse of the painful memories that he always tried so hard to hide.

"I couldn't for a while," he said.  "Couldn't climb the ladder.  But after I got better, I started coming up here all the time."

"Maybe you just see things better when you're up in the air," Mac whispered.

"Maybe."

"And this is where you restored Sarah?"

He nodded.  "Working on Sarah...it was like having my dad here with me again."  He laughed a little.  "I used to talk to him.  I think I wanted to believe he was still there."

"Maybe he was."

Harm scoffed.  "Come on, Mac, we both know he was never anything more than a ghost."

"Ghost or not," Mac argued, "I think he's always been there for you."

She laced her fingers through Harm's and squeezed his hand.  Unconsciously, she had moved closer to him, and when she turned her head, she realized that their lips were only a breath apart.

And it would be so easy to close the distance...

BANG!

Harm and Mac jumped as the barn door swung open and slammed against the wall, although neither could tell if they were more startled by the sound or the electricity that crackled between them.

"Grandma?" Harm called.

But there was no reply.

"Must have been the wind," Mac said.

Harm turned to her, his eyes darkening with suspicion.  "Yeah...must have been."


	6. Warm sweaters

It was well after sunset by the time Mac stepped out on the porch that evening, her Marine appetite completely satiated by a homecooked meal and a large piece of pumpkin pie.

The night was cool and clear, with a bright crescent moon, and she could have easily counted each shining star in the sky.  The peepers chirped in the pastures, the owls' soft screeches echoed above the trees, and Mac swore she heard the lonely howl of a coyote in the distance.

She also heard the latch opening on the front door, and Mac didn't even have to turn around to know he was there. 

"You don't ever see this in Washington," she said softly.

"No, you don't."  Harm stood just behind her shoulder, close enough for her to feel his presence but not close enough to touch.

Mac shivered and rubbed her hands together.  "And it's colder here than in Washington," she said.  "I'm going to get another sweater."

"Mac."

She felt his fingers reach out to grab her wrist and pull her close.

"You don't need another sweater."

As he wrapped her in his arms and pressed her against his chest, Mac had to admit that sharing body heat with Harm filled her with an unusual warmth that spread from her head to her toes.

But it wasn't until his lips claimed hers in a soft, sweet kiss that he set her completely on fire.

And on a chilly autumn night, underneath the stars on a rural Pennsylvania farm, Sarah MacKenzie fell a little more in love with her best friend and let him take her breath away.


End file.
